"P-burgh" and the incline

If you ask David what he did in Pittsburgh, he will reply, "In P-burgh I ride a incline." I think our Friday morning ride on the Duquesne Incline, which has been operating since 1877, may have been the highlight of our trip. David likes riding anything that even vaguely resembles a train. Greg appreciated the engineering as well as the craftsmanship. I liked the view from the top. And Mary likes anything the rest of us like.

"P-burgh" and the return of David the Fearless

I used to be a roller coaster fanatic. It all began at Busch Gardens in Florida when I was 8, continued on into my pre-teen years (the highlight of which was a season pass to Six Flags in St. Louis, which also included admission to the New Kids on the Block concert, the highlight of which was when Joey took off his shirt), and culminated in my high school physics class's field trip to Magic Mountain. Alas, except for the wooden roller coaster on the Santa Cruz boardwalk, I think my love affair is waning, proof of which is the fact that I live in Ohio and have not been to, nor have plans to go to, Cedar Point, roller coaster mecca. Yes, I would now rather ride the flume than the free-fall--am I old, or what? But hope lies in the next generation. With David the love affair is just beginning. Sure, he might have run screaming from a temple, and maybe he was too scared to touch a truck, but the "no ride is too scary" gene has clearly been passed on.

Our first evening in Pittsburgh we decided to splurge and go to Kennywood, a smallish amusement park above the river. Things looked grim at first. Due to road construction and a Pirates game (Who goes to mid-week daytime baseball games? Especially when it's 90 degrees? Who were these people??), what should have been a 20 minute drive took 2 hours! We had a bit of a crisis when we first arrived--it was 7 pm (nighttime half-price discount!) and we hadn't eaten dinner so we were starving but David was too excited to eat. But once we made it to Kiddieland, things got really, really fun.

David wanted to ride the helicopters first. I was convinced he was going to freak out and cry. But he marched right over to the gold one, climbed in, let the attendant buckle him in, and went about the very serious business of flying a helicopter. He loved it! I was amazed by how much joy I felt watching David so happy. I knew then that our splurge was worth it.

Mary was there, too, of course, thoughtfully, happily watching her brother. She got to come along too on a few things, like the carousel and the train ride. I can't wait until she's old enough to be the co-pilot!

Without the least bit of fear or hesitance, David proceeded to enjoy ride after ride. The airplanes, the turtle ride, the scrambler, the crazy trolley that goes really high and I was sure would freak him out but he totally loved, the crazy boat that was even worse than the crazy trolley and that he loved even more, the little Ferris wheel, the motorcycles. He also conquered his first roller coaster, which was the best part for me--I was with him, and it made me insanely happy to be with him on his first roller coaster ride. Like I was passing down some great, ancient family tradition or something. Greg and I also enjoyed taking him on this great old car ride with a wooden track originally built in 1927. David was so pleased to drive a car (especially since, that very morning, he had confidently announced to us that he was going to drive our car to Pittsburgh, which, of course, he did not do. Poor kid has no idea how long he has to wait for that one!)

One of the last rides he went on was the motorcycles, where he beat out all the girls for the pink one. One girl (and her parents) looked especially shocked. But, hey, it's first come, first served, and if my kid--who was first in line anyway--wants to drive the pink motorcycle, I'm sure your kid will survive on the yellow one.

Besides riding the kiddie roller coaster with David, my personal favorite was the train ride. It was awesome. It was this kitschy history of Pittsburgh tutorial, complete with a faded life-size diorama of a bloody workers strike and real-life majestic view of the area's only remaining raw steel mill. Pretty cool. Seriously. I thought it was so cool that we had to ride it again. Jeez! I must really be getting old. That's okay. I'll leave the thrill-seeking to David.

"P-burgh" and the drive to

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We stopped two times on our way to Pittsburgh. This meant our 4-hour drive took us only 6 hours. We were pleased. (Six months ago our 7-hour drive to D.C. took 13--very demoralizing.)

Our first stop was at a big, grungy truck stop, where we parked in a spot restricted to those parking no more than 6 hours (we were hoping to stay not much more than 6 minutes). It was uneventful, except for the tantrum David started to throw about a $27 model tow truck we were not going to buy him. Luckily, we were able to avert a full-blown emotional eruption, but, since David almost never throws tantrums, it unnerved me a little, and I took it as a bad omen. (It wasn't.)

Our second stop was at a pleasant new Target in Wheeling, West Virginia. The kids and I picked up a Father's Day gift for their dad, and Greg found a map of Pittsburgh. We concluded the pit stop sitting on bar stools, munching cinnamon-sugar pretzels, and happily watching an excavator in action at the construction site next door. That's about as good as it gets for this little family. Even if the rest of the trip turned out to be a total disaster, at least we would always have Target!

Arriving in Pittsburgh is actually quite dramatic. The terrain suddenly becomes hillier, and you pass under a couple of fascinating big, old, deteriorating steel railway bridges--a glaring announcement about where you have come and what used to be. Soon you're speeding through a tunnel that shoots you onto a bridge and, suddenly, without warning, there you are--in Pittsburgh! And it's beautiful! It's this wonderful city of hills and rivers and bridges, of water and trees and shiny tall buildings, of train tracks and stadiums and rusty old mills.

(I never ever associated Pittsburgh with beauty, but now I know better.)

Rick Steves we are not

Yesterday we returned home from the family vacation of the year. We're counting it as a big vacation because (1) considering we have a three-year-old who does not go with the flow, we did a lot of stuff, (2) thanks to Mary, we had a lot of gear, and (3) we had a lot of fun! So it was a lot of vacation--even though it was only two nights in Pittsburgh.

Our childless days of "hopping" to Europe on military cargo planes are gone, as are the days of relying on the baby in the backpack to charm the locals in off-the-beaten-path Turkey. But we travel to see new things, learn about other people and places, and, most of all, create fun family memories. And you don't have to be in Florence or on the Nile to do that. We have abandoned those 10-hour-flights across the Atlantic for 4-hour drives from Dayton; we skip the hole-in-the-wall local eateries for the familiar national chains (so we can keep our kid alive); we traded in our Lonely Planet budget/boutique hotel recommendations for free breakfast and the chance to earn Marriott points. And we like it!!

Pittsburgh was awesome! We had a fabulous trip we will always remember. It was so much fun! Pittsburgh might not be the Isle of Patmos or the ruins of Pompeii, but, by golly, it's getting the same treatment. That means I'm going to write about the things we saw, the people and places we learned about, and, most of all, those fun family memories. This is something I started doing a couple years ago, and this blog and this trip seems like the perfect opportunity to keep it up. So look forward to pics and anecdotes from "P-burgh" (as David calls it).

A civil engineer's nemesis

Here is a picture of Greg's nemesis:

As the resident civil engineer, Greg is officially in charge of building and maintaining the train track. Now that Mary can pull up on the train table, she thinks she should be part of the engineering action too, greatly complicating Greg's ability to execute this particular familial duty. For Mary, "civil engineering" means pulling things apart and slobbering on them. The last time Greg tried to build a track, I heard repeated shouts of "Agh, Mary!" and I think he finally had to halt construction until after baby bedtime.

Here is a picture of Greg and his apprenticed engineer (who couldn't be happier):

Wow

Check out my cousin's website.

(She doesn't say so on the site, but this is Rachel herself in the gown she designed and made for her wedding.)

Why not Pittsburgh?

It's summer break, and we're going to *drum roll* Pittsburgh! Why? It was on the map. So why not?

It's also home to the Andy Warhol Museum. Both my babies have had their rooms plastered with Andy Warhol prints, so why not take them to see some real ones?

The birthday bike

David got a bike for his birthday. It was a big hit! Nothing has ever held his attention for so long! (Well, except for pbskids.org.) He took it for a spin on a nearby bike trail, and he was a pro in no time. He likes to, as he says, "pedal my feet."

For weeks we have been dragging him to stores to test ride bikes (which had the effect of creating in him an intense desire to have a bike of his own--birthday wishes can come true!). Last weekend we visited a friendly local bike store, where the salesman helped us figure out what size bike David really needs (wow, we had been wrong) AND put in David's parents an intense desire for their son to own a brand new Trek. Luckily, within a few days we came to our senses: 3-year-olds do not need brand new Treks! We did, however, scour craigslist for a 16" not-so-brand-new Trek (or something comparable), to no avail. That's okay. Three-year-olds can get their bikes at Wal-mart (or Meijer, in this case).

I was hoping for a Huffy. Geroge Huffman started a bike company here in Dayton in the 1880s. For many years the bikes were sold as "Dayton" brand bikes. (It's hard to believe that having anything with "Dayton" on it would be desirable, but at the turn of the century Dayton was a happening place when it came to new technologies. It was the Silicon Valley of its day.) It wasn't until the 1950s that the brand name became Huffy. By the way, we learned all this at the old Wright Brothers bicycle store. I figured, if we're going to be buying a less-than-stellar bike, it might as well have an interesting history, and since we live in Dayton, I thought it would be cool if we got a Huffy. But I was even more determined to buy a bike without Dora, Thomas, or Spiderman plastered all over it. Apparently, you can't buy a plain Huffy anymore. So we bought him a cute blue Kent.

No, it's not a Huffy, but I think the Kent has good karma. My brother Andy's first bike was a little silver Kent. I think the Kent bodes well for David's biking future because (1) Andy competed in the Bear Mountain Endurance Mountain Bike Race--whoever can go the farthest in 12 hours wins--and won, (2) Andy bought his then-fiance an engagement mountain bike, as well as the traditional engagement ring, and (3) Andy is so bike-cool that he no longer finds it necessary to have gears.

David, may you have a bright future of pedaling your feet, with or without gears.

[Now that I think about it, the little silver Kent might have belonged to my brother Dave instead. Does this mean David is destined to be a Spanish-speaking, Moby Dick-reading, Simpsons-loving Marine?]

Congrats to the grad

Yesterday was not only David's 3rd birthday, it was the day my baby brother graduated from high school. (We'll always remember that Daniel graduated on June 9.) Even with a serious bout of senioritis while riding the tumultuous end-of-high school emotional roller coaster, Uncle Daniel was thoughtful enough to send David his very own birthday Ziggy Pasta (which David calls his "noodles.") I can't speak for David, but I, personally, find playing with the noodles to be stress-relieving (almost as much as smooshing play-dough). I guess I'm not the only one, since it's popular among the FMHS drama kids--I suppose performing Titanic complete with a hydraulic sinking ship and taking The Rimers all the way to State might require a little stress-relieving activity now and then. Here's a picture of Daniel when he was but a wee junior at "the Mound" and David when he was a big boy of 20 months:
Good luck to David as he embarks on his pre-school years: the friends, the fun, the lessons learned. Good luck to Daniel as he embarks on his college years: the friends, the fun, the lessons learned. Go Cougars!

Finally 3!

We celebrated a very fun birthday today, party hats included.


Happy Birthday, David! We love you.

More fun with a friend

For an authentic Greene County experience Saturday evening, we took a trip out to Young's Dairy Farm. For those of you who don't know, this is what you do on a trip to the farm (besides eating yummy food and fresh ice cream):

Ride a tractor:

Fix a tractor: Pet a goat:
Be a goat: And, like most things in life, it is best experienced with a friend:

These are pics of David with gal-pal "Flower," formerly known as "Pear." It was her parents who had the brilliant idea of taking a trip to the farm. Hooray! Yes, the farm is always more fun with friends!

Birthday bubble bash

Since this is my blog, I'm going to tell you what I liked about David's birthday party. (I refer you to David himself if you would like his opinion. He has no blog, MySpace account, or email address, but he is getting better at communicating on the phone.)

• The idea. Greg (for various wise reasons) insisted that David have a birthday party this year. I was resistant...until Greg took David to the Daddy & Me Carnival. The highlight was the bubbles: the children dipped plastic tennis rackets into small plastic trash cans filled with bubble solution. The result was dramatic and a lot of fun. It seemed like the perfect 3-year-old birthday party activity!
• The invitations. I was determined that David help me make the invitations. I wanted him to be involved as much as possible--it was his party (and he's my arts'n'crafts kiddo)! I decided to make the invitations with soap bubble prints. David picked the colors and mixed the bubbles with the paint. He had a good time blowing the colorful bubbles...for about three minutes. This was my first time with this activity (which, by the way, I think is a lot of fun), and by the time I figured out how to really get it to work, David was bored. So I pretty much made them myself. Oh well. But David did help deliver them!

• The bubbles! The badminton rackets we found at the dollar store were perfect. We simply filled up a few plastic trash cans with bubble solution, and the kids went at it. I love this idea! It was so easy, too. (Here's something we learned: I thought we would be thrifty and make our own bubble solution, but we did the math, and it costs 3x more to make your own than to buy it by the gallon!) Eventually, the kids discovered the fan on the a/c--the ultimate bubble machine!

• Our backyard. I love our backyard, so it makes me happy when it makes other people happy. As expected, the bubbles only held their attention for so long. But there were lots of other things for nine fun-loving kids to do. The sandbox was a big hit. I was amazed by how many kids can fit in our tiny sandbox! Kudos to all the kids for sharing the small space and working together on a fabulous tunnel system. Besides the sandbox, there were trees for climbing and a giant dump truck that served as the perfect form of transportation for rides down the hill.

• The party hats. When I told David he was going to have a birthday party, he immediately began talking about party hats. He couldn't wait to pick some out! He was very proud to wear his fire engine party hat. I love that kid!

• The Party Like Crazy Bubble Water party favors from Target. I love these! They have blow straws that are so much easier for kids to use than those wands. They contain only one fluid ounce, so if one spills, it's not much of a mess. And they provide entertainment during the present-opening period. The kids were able to sit still in their chairs and blow bubbles while David opened his presents. The bubbles added to the festivities and made what can be a somewhat boring part of the party a little more interesting.

• Pre-scooped ice cream. (I know I didn't come up with this on my own--I must have read it somewhere?) The night before the party, I spread out cupcake liners on a tray and filled them with one scoop of ice cream each and then put the tray in the freezer. When it was time for cake and ice cream, distributing the ice cream was super fast. (We also had cupcakes, which David had lovingly decorated with sprinkles and M&Ms.)
  

• David's friends. David is a little social butterfly, and we are blessed to know many wonderful people here. The invite list for a party is always a little tricky. I took the path of least resistance and simply invited his church playgroup friends. They are used to playing with each other, and it was fun for us moms to hang out together. As I was watching these children play together, I was so grateful for David's friends, both past and present. And I am very grateful for their moms. David was sad when his friends left, and he ran to me crying, "Mom, I need my friends! I need my friends!" David, I understand perfectly.

Mary's first mess

I took this picture three weeks ago:

Here is why it is significant: This was Mary's first solo mess. She commando-crawled across the living room and into the dining room, negotiating her way through a maze of table legs and chairs until she discovered the old cabinet (that's been tagging along with me since college when it was discovered in the basement of our tiny old rental house apparently supporting the ground floor from collapsing--gotta love those college student dives!) Mary opened the cabinet doors and dumped out the play-dough supplies. All by herself! What an independent woman. She no longer must rely on her brother to participate in mess-making activities.

We have since entered a new era. Mary explores the house, dumping out, opening up, and toppling over. She also pulls herself up now, so there are more messes to be made now that her reach is higher. And she's discovered the buttons on the stereo system (ugh!). I love her curiosity and careful determination. But am I really ready for all this again? (Let's just say David wasn't exactly the kind of baby--or toddler--who liked to sit around. I'm still recovering from his babyhood!)

[By the way, Mary is officially crawling up on her knees. She's been commando-crawling since she was five months old. For the past month she has been crawling on her knees a few inches accidentally now and then. Earlier this week she began crawling on her knees for short distances, but preferred the army-man thing for the long haul. And tonight she finally discovered that the quickest way to Mom is using the knees.]

"Ah-choo!" ... you're welcome

David had a birthday party yesterday. Undoubtedly, a post will soon appear dedicated to its highlights. For now, though, a look back at the history of David's "thank you," which will ultimately lead us to the present--his birthday party.

When David was 18 months old, just for fun, we started baby signing with him. (We'd actually had a serious one-month stint with baby sign language when he was 9 months old, but we all hated it, so we quickly abandoned the pursuit. Interestingly, signing was a stunning success when it was just for fun, felt age-appropriate for our particular kid, and seemed like a natural part of our lives; in contrast, signing was a miserable failure as a strict "must-do" program implemented according to the dictates of "experts." I think there's a lesson in parenting there...) The most important signs were, of course, "more," "finished," "drink," "eat," and "car," but David was also introduced to "thank you." Meanwhile, David was spending several hours a week with Yelis, our beloved Turkish housekeeper. In Turkey, the two most important things you teach your baby are, first, to wave bye-bye and, second, to blow kisses. Once David had perfected the wave, Yelis worked diligently at teaching him to blow kisses. The result was that by the time he turned two, "thank you" and blowing kisses had merged in his mind--he blows a kiss to say "thank you." It's very, very cute. As recently as two weeks ago, I prompted David to say "thank you" to his speech therapist, and he enthusiastically blew her a kiss.

Like most toddlers, David had a phase when he thought sneezing was hilarious and began saying "ah-choo!" to get laughs. Some months ago I noticed that David was saying "ah-choo" with great frequency, but it seemed to have little to do with sneezing. I would hand him a banana or tuck his blanket around him, and he would reply, "Ah-choo, Mom." I finally realized that he was copying what he hears us say when someone does something for us ("thank you"), but to him it sounded like "ah-choo." So for several months, without prompting and of his own accord, he was extremely polite with lots of "ah-choo"-ing. But if I ever prompted him to say "thank you," he continued to blow kisses. For him, "ah-choo" was what you say when someone does something nice for you, and blowing a kiss is what you do if your mom tells you to say "thank you." We had a long period when David's good manners consisted primarily of sneezing and air-born kisses. But, within the last week or two, I think he's finally straightened it out. Which brings us to his birthday party.

Before his friends arrived, we had the prerequisite discussion on how you need to say "thank you" after you open a gift. I think I have pretty reasonable expectations for three-year-olds, so I certainly didn't believe that (or even care if) David would be Mr. Manners at his party. But I figured that if I explained before the party the importance of saying "thank you" and managed to elicit at least one muttered "ah-choo" during the party, my duty was done. David, however, went above and beyond the call of duty.

David took the business of opening presents very seriously. And, although it took a little prompting from me, he said thank you after every gift. It wasn't even a sneeze. It was a very clear "a-doo," which means he was actually trying to say "thank you." As old habits die hard, with each thank you, he also raised his hand to his mouth (although he didn't actually blow kisses). But here's the best part, the part that melts my heart, warms my soul, and inspired me to give him a thousand kisses after his friends went home: Not only did he not rush his thanks in an effort to quickly get to the next present, each thank you was personal (and seemed genuinely sincere). I would tell him who the gift was from, and he would look at that kid (or kids) and say "a-doo," including their names if he could say them. For example, after he opened a set of cars from Clara (whom he used to call "Pear" and now calls "Flower"), I told him who they were from. He looked around the table for Clara, but, since she was sitting at the other end, he couldn't see her, so he didn't say thank you. "Where Flower go? Where Flower go?" I helped him spot Clara, and once he saw her, he said, looking right at her, "A-doo, Flower," and raised his hand to his mouth in a half kiss-blow. The same thing happened after he opened his friend Lauren's gift. With great concern, he searched the group for her, and reserved his "a-doo" until he could say it right to her. Okay, is that not really, really sweet for a wound-up three-year-old at his birthday party, or what?! It was the kind of thing that easily goes unnoticed. (In all the chaos I'm sure I'm the only one who observed what he was doing, let alone understood the significance.) But it was definitely, positively the highlight of the party. For me, anyway. Don't you love those moments when your kids absolutely amaze you?

Ah-choo, David, and here's a kiss!

Sippy cup envy

I bought sippy cups for David's birthday party. This was exciting because we don't have sippy cups. As a baby, David was more into cups with straws, so we never accumulated the typical sippy cup collection that most young families have. As a result, now sippy cups are a fun novelty. (So if David has ever been over at your house and has cheered for joy when you offered him a sippy cup, now you know why.) David was excited to try out one of the sippy cups, so I filled it with water and let him drink it in the living room (which is also a novelty).

Mary was immediately overcome with jealousy. Something colorful you stick in your mouth? She wanted part of the action--especially since it was something David was doing. Mary attempted several times to wrestle the sippy cup out of David's hands. She's one tough little girl, and she was nearly successful. She even had David wailing and on the verge of tears. But, alas, David ultimately prevailed and stubbornly hung onto that sippy cup. It finally occurred to me to give Mary her own sippy cup (duh!). I didn't even bother to put anything in it. She was in heaven! She felt like such a big girl, doing exactly what her big brother was doing--sitting around with a sippy cup in her mouth.